Chapter Thirteen

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"Ye! Ye did this to us!"

Rosa stumbled out of arm's reach. The Scotsman lunging towards her was completely mad. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Goodman," she said as politely as she could manage under the circumstances, trying to add a dash of calm back into the situation. If McWilliam had taught her anything it was not to provoke an angry man.

The other women had all backed away, leaving Rosa and the crazed Scot in the middle of abandoned stools and looms. Sweet heaven. Thank you for nothing.

"Ye murdered Murray," he shouted again, lurching closer.

He wasn't as tall nor as big as McWilliam, but like practically everyone in this village he'd have no trouble overpowering her. This close she could see the red veins in his blue eyes, his flushed cheeks and fist clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

She raised her hands before her face. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't do anything."

But, wait. Hadn't McWilliam said something about a Scotsman being killed during the robbery and another gravely injured? This must be him, the one who claimed to have seen a woman with the same half-circle birthmark as Rosa at the docks when the money was stolen.

"I know what you think," she said, backing up with each word, "but I didn't do it. I wasn't even in London at the time of the theft. Someone set me up."

"Lies!" He swung his fist towards her face.

Rosa ducked, and the power behind the swing overbalanced him. Her attacker stumbled.

"That is enough, Rodd!" McWilliam stepped between Rosa and Rodd.

"How can you say that?" Rodd spat. "She killed Murray."

Rosa stepped around the laird before he could say anything. As terrible as losing an arm must be, she hadn't stolen anything, and she certainly hadn't killed anyone.

It was one thing to admit to a crime she hadn't committed to save Amelia, it was completely different when faced with a bloodthirsty Scotsman. She was not going to be intimidated by him. She'd spent the last two years disciplining three arrogant boys, Rodd wasn't going to get the better of her. End of story.

Besides, she didn't trust McWilliam to defend her innocence, not when he, too, still thought she was guilty.

"I'm innocent," she said in her most righteous governess voice. "Goodman Rodd, you will not touch me, and you will not accuse me of a crime I did not commit."

"Like hell ye're innocent. I saw ye." He gestured towards Rosa's neck where she imagined her birthmark was visible above the neckline of her bodice.

"A birthmark can be easily forged with a little creative thinking. I was set up. Someone wants me to take the blame for their crime."

"Ha!" He let out a great bark of disbelief. "Where's your proof?"

"Do you really think I'd be here if I had 3,000 pounds? I'd have been on the first ship to the New World in a second." She clicked her fingers, trying to drive her point home.

Rodd didn't slow. He threw another fist towards Rosa.

Despite her best efforts, a squeal escaped her mouth, and even as she darted out of the way she knew it would be too late.

Thwack.

Rosa blinked. She hadn't been hit.

McWilliam once again stood between her and Rodd, the other man's fist imbedded in his stomach. McWilliam didn't even wince. He stared down at Rodd with such darkness, Rodd swallowed.

Everyone around them froze.

"I didn't mean..." Rodd stammered. "I shouldn't have..."

"That's right. Ye shouldn't have." The embers, always just below the surface, flared into life. Anndrais McWilliam's hand dropped to his dagger, but he didn't pull it free. "Go home, Rodd."

"I...but she..." He pointed past McWilliam to Rosa, glancing around the street. Nobody made eye contact.

"Now."

He fled, nursing the stump of his missing arm.

* * *

"Does anyone else have anything they wish to say to Rosa?" McWilliam looked from woman to woman, until each one had shaken their head. "Good." He grabbed Rosa's upper arm, steering her around and marching back towards the castle.

What had Rodd been thinking? Hitting a woman, no matter the circumstance, it wasn't right, dammit.

But Rodd hadn't been thinking, that was the problem. He'd let anger and grief control his emotions.

And what had McWilliam done? Sure, he couldn't have known Rodd would be at the village. He was supposed to be staying up at the castle, where Fenella could keep an eye on him and his shoulder. Providing Rodd with hospitality after that attack was the least McWilliam could do. God knew he couldn't afford much more than that with the money stolen.

Still, he shouldn't have let Rosa out of his sight. Not again, he vowed.

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence.

Rosa glanced up at him, struggling to match his long strides.

He slowed.

"What for?"

"Leaving you alone with Rodd. I knew he was angry."

"Did you know he would attack me?"

"Nay. But I still shouldn't have taken the risk."

She seemed to contemplate his words. "I believe you." Then she inhaled, lifting her light chest like a preening peacock, obviously pleased with herself. "Too bad you don't repay the compliment."

He couldn't help but feel impressed by her persistence. If Rodd hadn't been an eyewitness to Rosa's involvement, he might actually have started to believe her. It just went to show what a good liar she was. She'd probably had years of practice.

He contemplated the top of her head. Her hair had once again begun to tumble free of its customary braid, the locks apparently too soft to be contained for long, and soft tendrils feathering at her temple and nape. Dressed in a simple grey gown of the day before, she nevertheless managed to look fresh and lively. She looked nothing like a liar. Or a thief.

In fact, she walked and talked like an educated woman. She was a little rough around the edges, but otherwise she could probably pass as a lady. That meant it was possible that the story she'd told him about a drunken father and a wealthy uncle could be true. She even might have been a governess at one point.

And her nightmares were real, he was positive about that. Someone—Emily had died.

But the rest of it? The kidnapped cousin? The threatening note?

He gave his head a shake. Rosa was just an amazing performer. She knew how to maintain a front even when threatened.

Even when threatened by an almost six-foot tall Rodd? An uncomfortable voice at the back of his mind questioned. He'd seen men twice her size back down when faced with Rodd. Rodd wasn't an easy man to deal with when you got on his bad side—and Rosa was as far left of his bad side as possible.

"That was some fight back there," he said, eventually giving credit where credit was due. Regardless of the fact that she was still lying about her innocence, she'd stood her ground against one of the angriest Scotsman he'd ever known.

She brushed her hands down her skirt as though dusting away invisible wrinkles with a faint smile. "I'm not afraid of getting a little dirty."

And once again his soldier jumped to attention. He liked the sound of that, dammit.

* * *

"You left the sassenach with Rodd?" Cameron stormed into McWilliam's office. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "Intelligent."

"Is there anywhere you don't have spies?" McWilliam said it as a joke, but when Cameron didn't laugh, McWilliam frowned. "Do you have spies?" Nay. He shook his head. Cameron was his uncle. News of the confrontation would have spread quickly through the gossip channels—it would have been easy for Cameron to hear about Rodd and Rosa.

"It was a mistake, I'm the first to admit it," McWilliam continued, not waiting for an answer. "I've already apologized."

"Good. Rodd didn't deserve to be put in that situation." Cameron crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at McWilliam with an I-know-better-than-you look only an uncle or father could achieve.

"Nay, ye misunderstand. I've apologized to Rosa." McWilliam stood up. "No matter what crime she's committed, Rosa doesn't deserve to be threatened or attacked. That's not justice."

"And what about Rodd?" Cameron demanded. "What does he deserve?"

"Rodd's lucky I didn't punish him for attacking a woman. I would have been well within my rights to do so."

"It's god damn lucky you didn't," snapped Cameron. "People are already gossiping about how you favor the sassenach."

His chest tightened. "It doesn't matter what they think. By Whitsunday all of this will be sorted, and they'll see then that I always do what's best for the estate."

"The sooner Rosa's punishment has been handed down the better. Everyone's on edge." Cameron ran a hand through his hair, but his voice had softened, apparently reassured by McWilliam's words. "Rhona doesn't like her staying so close. It's making her nervous."

Nervous. That didn't sound like his Rhona. "Speaking of which," McWilliam said, seizing the subject, "Duncan told me that he didn't examine Rhona when she hurt her ankle. It was you who tended her."

"Didn't he?" Cameron wrinkled his nose. "Oh, that's right, he didn't. I went down and talked with him about the sprain. Thought it would be easier that way."

"Easier than what?" As McWilliam's family had helped pay for Duncan's university education—one of the only good things McWilliam's grandfather had ever done—he was expected to serve the family whenever an illness arose and had been doing so quite happily for the last thirty years.

"He was busy that day," Cameron shrugged. "Old Mrs Campbell's gout had flared up again."

McWilliam nodded, satisfied. "I talked with Duncan today, and he said he'd drop by tomorrow to see Rhona. I'll get him to take a look at Rodd, too. He's obviously beginning to get better." Better enough to threaten a woman, dammit.

And it had been all McWilliam's fault.

"I've got a lot of paperwork," he said as way of a dismissal.

A pause. "I'll leave you to it then." Cameron backed up, his voice taking on an edge making it clear he wasn't happy about being kicked out.

McWilliam pressed his head into his hands.

His blood boiled to think of Rodd hurting Rosa. And then it froze over like ice when he thought of the part he had played in today's confrontation.

God dammit. It was his responsibility to keep her safe. He was her prison and her jury, and that made her his responsibility.

He banged his palm against his forehead, cursing silently.

Not only had he put Rosa in harm's way today, he'd also kissed her. He'd kissed the one woman who was utterly and completely out of bounds.

He straightened. To hell—he wasn't going to make that mistake again! He was a grown man, perfectly capable of keeping it in his pants—or kilt—for another two weeks.

And, as soon as her punishment had been handed down, she'd be out of his life forever. No more Miss Rosa Blair.

* * *

The moment Rosa was alone again in her chamber, she pulled out the fragment of paper from her pocket. The handwriting was unmistakable. She would have recognized it anywhere—it wasn't easy to forget the handwriting that had threatened the life of her cousin.

She'd been right in assuming it was the edge of a page. One edge was straight as if from the side, while the other three were jagged as if someone had torn up the page into small squares. And judging by how close it had been to the open fire, Rhona had evidently torn up the page and tried to burn it. Most of the words were missing their beginning, but she could make out something that was probably 'money' and something else that could have been 'promise'.

But why was Amelia's kidnapper writing to Rhona about money, and what could they possibly have to promise her? Rosa tapped her forehead. It was almost unthinkable to even contemplate that Rhona was working in association with the kidnapper. She obviously hated Rosa and believed her guilty of stealing the money. That meant she had no knowledge of the kidnapper's involvement in framing Rosa for the theft.

Could the kidnapper be threatening Rhona too? But why? She could hardly be older than sixteen and under the guardianship of her brother so she couldn't possibly have any money of her own to pay a bribe.

None of this made sense.

There was no reason—

The lock clicked.

Rosa turned, but nobody entered her chamber.

She frowned and tried the door handle. The door opened.

What the—?

She stepped into the hallway. It was deserted. McWilliam was nowhere to be seen. So who had unlocked the door?

Faint voices were coming from Rhona's room as though she was talking with someone. Rosa moved towards her chamber but then another door caught her eye. The room between Rosa's and Rhona's had also been left open. And from what McWilliam had told her, that was his room. Curiosity tickled her fingertips.

Glancing around to double check nobody was around, Rosa ducked inside.

"McWilliam?" she called softly. Nobody answered. "McWilliam?"

The shutters were closed leaving the room in shadow. A large bed took up most of the space, with sheets the color of midnight. She blinked. She'd never seen such a bed.

Beside it was a simple table with a wash basin and razor for shaving, in sharp contrast to his luxurious four-poster.

Other than that, there was only a trunk against the opposite wall. And that too was open.

It was easy to see the contents, even from her place beside the door. There were a couple of white shirts, another kilt, a dagger and a ring.

She frowned. It was the same ring he'd put on her finger when they'd been traveling from Bradford to Scotland and posing as husband and wife. Simple yet elegant, the gold shone brighter than anything else in the room, as though it had just been polished.

Rosa took half a step closer. It had been so strange to wear a wedding band, and from its prominent position amongst McWilliam's personal belongs it was apparently a ring of significant meaning. Had it been one of his parents' wedding bands? That would explain why McWilliam had it. It was probably part of his inheritance when his mother died.

Nothing about this felt right.

McWilliam's bedchamber had never been left open before, and he didn't strike her as a person who'd forget to close it. And the trunk—why was that open? And the ring—was it coincidence that it was sitting in pride of place, visible from all the way across the room?

No. She suddenly felt sick. This was all a set up. Her bedchamber door had been unlocked on purpose and the ring left where she was sure to find it. McWilliam was trying to tempt her to steal from him.

She backed up, hitting the edge of the open door.

How dare he think she was fool enough to fall for such a set up! Her mouth filled with the nasty taste of deception and she pressed a hand to her stomach. She knew he was determined to make her admit to the wool theft, but she'd never imagined he'd do something this low.

"Bull," she said, copying his favored curse. She'd been too busy admiring the way his hair brushed the back of his neck and his beautiful sculptured knees that she'd let her guard down. Bennie Cooke would be very disappointed in Rosa. Bennie Cooke would never let anyone fool him. Bennie Cooke wouldn't have fallen for a childish trick like this.

Rosa turned on her heel, determined to storm back into her room but Rhona's door opened. Rosa froze. If she was found in McWilliam's room, it wouldn't matter if she'd stolen the ring or not, she'd be found guilty of intent. Providence save her!

But Rhona didn't enter her brother's room. Rosa watched her through the crack between door and wall as she pulled a traveling clock tightly around her shoulders and hurried down the corridor. Rosa stared after her. She wasn't limping. Had her ankle healed? And where was she going in such a rush?

Rosa ducked back into her own room, snapped the door shut and moved to the window. Pressing an eye to the gap between the boards, she watched Rhona slip out of the tower house. She didn't head towards the portcullis, but moved along the great wall, using the shadow to obscure herself from observers. Rounding a corner, she slipped from Rosa's view, ducking behind the eastern tower house.

Rosa sat on the corner of her bed, feeling dumbfounded. Did this have anything to do with the burnt letter? What if Rhona was meeting with Amelia's kidnapper? Or was it something more innocent like a meeting with her secret beau?

Rosa's heart thumped in her chest. Stuff the ring, she was going to follow Rhona. She couldn't let this opportunity pass. She had to do everything in her power to save her cousin, and if that meant leaving this room and following McWilliam's darling younger sister, then that's exactly what she'd do.

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